Metamorphosis
by GeekisChic88
Summary: “Emotionally involved?” He yelled back. “Of course I’m emotionally involved! She’s one of my CSI’s. I already came close to losing one, and I’m damn sure as hell not going to let that happen again!” GSR WIP
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI or its characters...wishful thinking.

Rated: T (To be on the safe side. I don't know what I'm going to throw in later.)

A/N: Ok, so this is my first Fanfic of ANY kind, let alone CSI or GSR. I have no clue as to what the heck I'm doing, so any help would be greatly apreciated! Please review! I can take criticism. I've just recently fallen head-over-heels for CSI, and I haven't seen every episode, so if this is way OOC, that might be why. Hope it's not a disgrace to fanfiction... Here goes nothing...

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Metamorphosis

Sara Sidle stormed into Grissom's office. Normally, she would have gladly knocked on the doorframe, knowing that she was always welcomed, but this time she had no energy left for formalities. This was the last straw.

Sara always loved visiting Grissom in there. The time spent alone with him in his office gave her a secret satisfaction. This time, however, walking through the doorway was like forcing herself through the fiery gates of hell. She slammed the door behind her, the door that hardly ever closed, and headed straight for his desk.

Grissom could feel her anger as soon as she stepped foot into the room. The heat from her presence was so powerful that he could feel it singe the hairs on his beard. He was taken aback by the look in her eyes, a frightening new one that he'd never seen before, and quickly removed his glasses to make sure his eyes weren't fooling him. She was angry; angrier than she ever had been before, and he knew it.

"What the hell is wrong with you!"

_Where do I begin?_

She began pacing in front of his desk. Grissom opened his mouth to speak, but his attempt was interrupted by the fire in her voice.

"Five years, Grissom. Five years. For five whole years I have put up with this…and…and…with you!" Her words hit him like a bullet to the heart. "You know, for a while there I thought I would be okay. I thought _we_ would be okay."

_We?_

"But now," she was stuttering, fighting to translate her thoughts into words, "but now you go behind my back and do _this_ to me?" Sara slammed her hands on the desk.

Grissom knew where this was going. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and exhaled deeply.

"How…how could you?" The tone of her voice had changed from angered to disbelief. "After all we've been through. After all I've done…for you. Grissom, I left everything I knew in San Francisco just to help you, and I stayed…for you…because you wanted me to. I got a life for you…" as she fought back the horrible memories, her voice quivered. "Everything. Everything I've done in the past five years I've done for you." She paused to reflect. "And I thought you cared."

But he _did_ care, and that's exactly why Grissom did what he did. It was for her own good.

* * *

They had been working on a case; a double homicide at a baseball game. The graveyard team was stumped. The evidence was not matching up. Nothing was making sense. After hours of argument between the six of them in the lab, Grissom decided he needed to return to the crime scene once again. Maybe he missed something. 

"No, Nick," Catherine yelled across the table, "That's not possible. The pitcher's blood is no where to be found. Why the hell would you even consider that?"

Warrick struggled to hold Nick back as he lashed out at her.

"That's enough!" Grissom raised he voice and stood up abruptly. He only raised his voice when he was really frustrated and his pulse rate was forced skyward. "I'm going to the ballpark," he said quietly, as soon as he had everyone's attention. Then he started down the hallway, alone. Warrick, Nick, Greg and Catherine sat still and exchanged looks of confusion.But Sara immediately followed after him.

"Can I come with you?" That voice always jump-started some butterflies in his stomach. She had said the same thing to him so many times before, always wanting to be with him, and it secretly made him smile inside. But on the outside, he stopped walking, put up that Gil Grissom façade, and turned back to look at her in slight annoyance.

"I'd rather go alone, sort things out by myself."

"You shouldn't go alone. Not when you're so pissed off like that. You might not be thinking clearly," she said softly. "Let me help you," she pleaded. Their eyes met. Grissom sighed. How could he resist?

"Fine." And he continued to the parking lot.

Sara grabbed a kit and rushed after him, like a puppy to its master.

At the ball field, Grissom and Sara retraced the steps of the victims. They went over each and every piece of evidence, together. Their minds worked in a silent dance with each other. No words ever needed to be said. They thought as one. As their minds hunted harder and harder for answers, their passion for solving the mystery electrified the air between them.

The met up at the pitcher's mound, crawling on their hands and knees, searching for what they hoped to be the missing clue. Suddenly, a tiny glistening piece of dark metal caught both their gazes. Simultaneously, they exclaimed, "I've got it," and reached for the evidence. Before either of them registered that they had said the same thing and were going after the same evidence, their hands grazed each other's. In an immediate and instinctual reaction, Grissom wrapped his hand around Sara's dainty fingers and looked up at her. When their eyes met, he realized what he had done and quickly let go of her hand. He turned away, feeling slightly ashamed of himself. It was getting so much harder for him to ignore his emotions.

Grissom silently picked up the metal with a pair of tweezers and put it into a plastic bag.

_Should I say something?_ He thought to himself while gathering up his gear. The two of them silently climbed back into the SUV. Sara audibly took a deep breath.

"It's really something, isn't it?" Sara stated, as Grissom started to turn the key. He stopped and looked at her.

"What?"

He knew very well what she was talking about.

"You know, when we work together. I think it's kind of…amazing."

He was glad she said something first. He was thinking the same thing, but as always, he couldn't formulate the correct words.

She continued, "Did you ever notice that we always know what each other is thinking?"

Once again, he took note of her beauty, and watched as she nervously pushed a loose curl behind her ear.

_If you only knew what I was thinking now._

Since he didn't say anything for a while, she started to take it back. "Never mind. My mind just wanders sometimes. I don't know. I don't know, you make me nervous sometimes, and confused, and I just say things…You know me…" Her voice trailed off.

Sara was rambling on and on. He noticed she did it a lot when their conversations turned personal. Something inside him told him that this little episode was not supposed to end up like all the others. Time and time again, it seemed as though they were finally making some progress in their "relationship", but every time, without fail, Grissom would get scared, act as if nothing ever happened, and distance himself from the object of his affection.

"No, I think I know what you're saying. I guess we just make …a great team."

_Now, was that so hard? _

"It's always a pleasure working with you, Sara. You're a wonderful criminalist," he said gently.

_Now's your chance, Gil. Say something!_

"And a wonderful person."

Before he realized what he had done,Grissom mustered up enough strength to place his hand on top of hers. When his synapses finally fired at the touch of her warm skin on his fingertips, Grissom could do nothing but stare down in his hand on hers. When she curled her fingers to take his hand, he could feel his body temperature rise.

"Grissom," she whispered.

No answer. He was physically unable to move, overcome by the shock of the situation he had put himself in. This was bound to happen eventually, and he knew it.

"Grissom."

Still no answer.

"Grissom, look at me."

He picked his head up and was drawn into her soft brown eyes, like a moth to a flame. He felt himself slowly being pulled into her by some unexplained force. Grissom could not explain what happened in the next few seconds. Somehow he ended upjust inchesfrom her lips.Saragently put her hand up to the side of his faceand stroked his cheek. As he closed his eyes to live out his fantasies, something triggered inside of him.

"What am I doing?" he though out loud, turned away and quickly started the car. Grissom had been two inches from her face. He was going to kiss her. He was going to do something he only dreamed about thousands upon thousands of times before. But he couldn't.

"What the hell is wrong with you? What are you romantically inept or something?"

Grissom growled at himself. This was not just another tally mark to add to his list of screwed-up encounters with Sara. This time he really did it.

Grissom had the death grip on the steering wheel. He stared straight ahead, trying to focus on nothing but the road ahead of him, but so many thoughts were ricocheting throughout his mind.

"This can never happen. Nothing can ever happen between us. This never happened, okay?"

"No, that's not okay," she screamed. "It's never been okay! Why can't you give in to you feelings. I know they're there. We both know. I don't understand."

"We just can't, alright? We just can't. It would ruin our careers..." Grissom sped through a yellow light.

"That's it?" she inquired. "Our careers? Is that all that's important to you, Griss? Why else can't we do this, huh?"

Grissom tried hard to think of an answer. So often he would spend hours lying in bed, contemplating his feelings for Sara, and ever time he could come up with a list of reasons why it wasn't possible. But now Grissom was too frustrated to think of anything. That part of his mind seemed blank.

"See? Nothing else, right?"

"Sara, I'm sixteen years older than you? Don't you think there's something wrong with that?"

"No, I don't,and damn it, that's all that should matter to you!"

Grissom was at a loss for words. The remainder of the trip back to the lab was silent, except for their heavy, angered breathing. Grissom parked the car and turned the engine off, but he stayed buckled in his seat for a while, still staring right in front of him. Sara practrically pulled her seatbelt off and ripped the door open.

A dark voice came out from deep within her. "Baseball is a damn beautiful game." She grabbed the kit, slammed the door, and left Grissom to ponder what had just occured.

Grissom stayed in the car for half an hour. Something had to be done about this. He needed to save Sara from this potential downfall of her career. Of course he loved her. He always had and always would, but she was young and had her whole life ahead of her. She was brilliant, talented, and, God was she beautiful. She was going to make quite a name for herself one day in the world of forensic science, and she had plenty of time to make one young guy the luckiest man in the world. He, on the other hand, was dull and over-the-hill. He loved her too much to ruin every chance she had to do all those wonderful things. His life would beover sooner than hers and he wouldn't have as much time as she to think about all the things he never had.

Finally he made a decision. Grissom felt he had no other choice.SaraSidle would be moved to the dayshift. Things would be better. They would have almost no contact with each other; no more ways to become what he saw as dangerously too close to her.

* * *

"And I thought you cared." She repeated her words, dark and cold. 

Finally, he spoke. "Sara, I do care. That's why I'm doing this...for your own good."

"Grissom, if you truly cared about me, you'd be able to open your heart and let me in." She leaned closer to him. "We're finished." She lingered a moment to take in his gaze one last time, and then she turned around and stormed out of his office. As she slammed the door behind her, Grissom could feel a sharp pain pierce behind his eyes. A migraine, just what he needed.

To be continued...

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A/N: I hope you don't hate it! Perhaps I'll continue? 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Nope, I still don't own CSI or its characters. If I did, Sofia wouldn't exist.

Rated: T (For language and some violence later...hint hint)

A/N: I apologize in advance for the length of this chapter and for its rather boring content. I just needed to throw this outthere to set some stuff up for later on. There will be good stuff soon, I promise. I just want to say that in this story I'll be talking about these two college baseball teams and their coaches. I radomly picked them and made up some names. I know nothing about these teams or these people. And finally, thank you sooooo much for the reviews! It made my day. I can't believe people are actually reading this and not hating it. Thanks again, and keep on reviewing!

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Chapter 2

"So what do we know as of right now?" In the break room Catherine poured herself a cup of coffee where she and the boys were discussing the baseball case.

"Okay," Warrick started, "College World Series, California Conference, Game 7. USC Trojans versus UNLV Rebels. The series is tied at three games each; the winner of game 7 would have been the champions, but the game was called on a count of two dead bodies."

Nick jumped in with a mouthful of his apple. "Top of the 8th, game is tied, no men on. The Vegas Rebels are at bat. The batter is hit by a pitch, square on the head. Nothing too unusual…"

"Until the same thing happens to the next batter and he charges the mound," Catherine interrupted.

"No, no, that happens all the time in baseball," Nick retorted. "In a few seconds, both benches were cleared and both teams were in a total brawl."

"But what was unusual was that after the brawl cleared, two Trojan players were dead, and might I add that they were the best on the team?" Greg was quite content with his observation.

"Right Greg," Catherine put down her coffee in order to really get into their conversation. "The star pitcher, Mike Mitchell and the cleanup batter, Kyle Murphy. What was_ also_ unusual was that their coach told us that both Mike and Kyle were complaining of lightheadedness throughout the game."

"That could explain why he couldn't find the strike zone," Warrick chimed in.

Catherine continued, "Coincidence? I think not. This is definitely foul play."

Greg cleared his throat before he spoke. "Well Catherine, all we definitely know is that two kids are dead. We'll just have to follow the evidence."

There was brief silence in the room until Catherine smirked and turned back to Greg. "I think you've been spending way too much time with Grissom, but you're right. Speaking of Grissom, where is he? He said Doc Robbins found some good stuff in the preliminary autopsies."

Nick smiled, "Well Sara's not here either. Ten bucks says you'll find them together."

The four CSIs threw their money down on the table, and Catherine left to find the geeks. As she turned the corner she heard a loud slam, and soon saw that hurricane Sara had just raged through Grissom's office. Immediately, Catherine recognized that this was not the normal, pissed off, PMS-ing, overly emotional Sara, but a Sara who looked like she just had heart ripped out and stomped on and was fighting back the tears that were filling her fiery eyes.

Sara stormed past her without acknowledging her and headed straight for the parking lot.

"Hey! Shift not over just yet!" She called out after her. Sara didn't even turn around, and opened the doors to the parking lot.

_Heart ripped out and stomped on... _She repeated her thoughts to herself.

_Oh God…GRISSOM!_

To be continued...

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A/N: Boring, I know. Sorry!

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	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI or its characters...except Grissom in my dreams.:-)

Rating: T

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! I'm tyring to get as much of this out there before I go on vacation/college scouting next week. Suggestions are always welcomed!

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Chapter 3 

Catherine slammed the door behind her.

"What the hell did you do this time, Gil?" Catherine glared at a terribly morose-looking Grissom. His eyes looked empty and lost.

Grissom answered quietly. "I don't know what you're talking about, Catherine. If you'll excuse me, I have work to do." He started rummaging through the draws of his desk, looking for something to occupy himself with.

"I just saw Sara run out of here in a mad rage and leave the building. Now, I've seen Sara pretty damn angry, but I've never seen her quite like this. And by that stupid look on your face and the fact that you're reading that trace report upside down, I know you're involved here. What did you do to her?"

Grissom exhaled deeply and handed Catherine his letter to the director regarding Sara's move to the day shift. Her eyes narrowed as she finished the letter. "Why?" she asked in disbelief.

"Professional reasons."

Catherine banged her fist on his desk. "That's bullshit, Gil."

"No it's not. Sara and I experience much difficulty in working together."

"That's not true. It's clockwork when you twowork with each other. It's only when you hurt her _personally_ that things get screwed up between you both."

"Excuse me?" He was shocked that she realized all that, even though it shouldn't have really surprised him. Catherine had been his best friend for God knows how long. She always tried to snoop around in his personal life, or lack thereof, and although he never disclosed any information to her, Catherine's intuition helped her find out anything.

"Oh come on, it doesn't take an investigator to find out that you're madly in love with her. I've known that since you first brought her here. We all know. It's like a soap opera every day with you guys. We come into work to see another episode in this little saga of yours."

Grissom shook his head. "You don't know half of it."

She smirked. "Um, yeah, I do. You fell in love with her the moment you laid eyes on her at that seminar all those years back. She fell for you, too. You both thought it was a little crush, but when you brought her to Vegas, you couldn't keep her out of your mind. You kept leading her on, but when she got too close, you pushed her away in this perpetual cycle. Now you've realized that you can't live without her, and it scares you because Gil Grissom is not exactly a people person."

Grissom glanced around his office. His tarantula, his insects, Miss Piggy… He had no photographs of anyone.

"You really pissed her off when you didn't recommend her for the promotion. I didn't think it was possible for you to do something that stupid again, let alone do something more even more stupid. Put her on _days_? God, Gil. Is that her punishment for trying to open up to you?"

It was no use trying to keep his feelings for Sara away from Catherine. She knew anyway.

"I didn't think she'd be this upset. I was just trying to make things better for…us."

"Upset! That's a hell of an understatement. Sara left your office with a look of… finality on her face. I mean, to me, it looks like she's not planning on coming back here any time soon. Plus, you're not exactly chasing after her. Something must have set you off to do this. Really Griss, tell me. Why would you even think of it?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but the words just weren't flowing. He reached for his migraine medication and popped two pills dry.

"Let me help you out here. Ever since you two got back from the ball field yesterday you haven't spoken a word to each other, well, besides what happened in here a minute ago." Her voice now had a hint of concern in it. "What happened yesterday?" She walked around his desk and sat down on the edge of it in front of him.

Grissom rubbed his temples. "We got too close."

"Too close how?"

He looked up at his friend. "I almost kissed her."

"And…"

"It wouldn't be right!" He stood up. "I'm her supervisor. We'd both get in trouble. They'd accuse her of sleeping her way to the top. I don't want that. I care about her too much to ruin her career."

"Or _your _career. Aren't you being a little selfish with all this?"

Grissom answered by looking down at the floor in shame. _She's right._ After a few seconds he looked up. "Besides," he whispered, "I'm too…"

"…old for her?" Catherine finished. "No you're not, believe me." After a beat, she looked deep into his eyes. "Gil, if you really love her like I know you do, that shouldn't matter to you. Listen to me; Sara's a wonderful girl. A little moody, but still…if you lost her, well, you'd be missing out on a great life. Now's your last chance to tell her what you should had told her five years ago. There's an hour left in the shift. You haven't left work early in years. I've got things under control here. Go home and figure out how to fix things with Sara once and for all."

"No, no, I can't do that. I have too much work to…"

"You're wasting time," she interrupted him as she turned to leave. "It might be too late." And with that she left.

To be continued...


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI or its character, however after watching "Big Middle", I'm really jealous of that woman who got to slap Grissom on the behind. Oh well...

Rating: T

A/N: Okay, so It's 7 am and I have to be at the airport by 9. My sister and I worked late into the night, but we didn't exactlyget to the part whereI wanted to end the chapter.That being said, keep in mind that the cliffhanger in the end is really in the wrong spot. When I return from mytrip in a week I'll be sure to finish this chapter, plus a couple more. I apologize for not finishing for you guys.Please understand. And THANK YOUfor the reviews. Theymake me so happy!

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Chapter 4

"Sorry I'm late, Jim. I was talking to Gil." Catherine approached the detective with a troubled look on her face.

"I thought Sidle was doing this one?"

"Well she was, but um…something came up." Brass opened the door to the interrogation room.

"Let me guess, a lover's quarrel?" He let out a slight chuckle.

"It's not funny. Sara's really mad. I wish Gil would just tell her how he feels."

"Yeah, and I wish they would add another zero onto the end of my paycheck. It's not going to happen. He's too…"

"Hey! I've been waiting here for over an hour. I have a team to get back to!" The booming, yet slightly raspy voice that interrupted them belonged to the large, middle-aged man seated behind the table, Coach Gary Muller. Muller was at least Six-foot-four, 200 pounds, with the remnants of a muscular build that had been depleted with age. He wore a black and red Rebels jacket, and twiddled his thumbs impatiently. The first thing Catherine noticed about him was his scar-ridden face. Marks covered his oddly-shaped jaw, and she inferred they were from numerous surgeries.

_Chewing tobacco. _She shook her head.

"We're sorry to keep you waiting sir, but we had other business to attend to," Catherine replied as she took a seat across from Mr. Muller.

Coach Muller looked up at Brass. "I thought I was gonna talk to that cute brunette chick."

"Well, you're not. This is Catherine Willows from the Las Vegas crime lab."

"Hey, how long is this gonna hold me up for. My boys were supposed to be taking batting practice half an hour ago. It's bad enough that the league won't give them the title they deserve, and now you bring them all in for questioning?"

Brass leaned on the table as he spoke in a stern voice. "Mr. Muller, you and your boys might not be playing again any time soon. You are under investigation for the murder of Michael Mitchell and Kyle Murphy."

"Why me?" Muller shouted.

"Why? Because of the evidence. The evidence is telling us that those two players were poisoned. You knew they were the best in the league and you knew your team was no match for them. I'm thinking you wanted to make sure you could win the title. Unless you can change the evidence, which you can't, I suggest you keep your mouth shut and cooperate with us."

* * *

Grissom leaned back against the door to his townhouse, dropping his jacket and briefcase to the floor. He stared into the quiet emptiness that was his home, no, his house. This was not a home. It was merely a bunch of walls and a ceiling that covered his material values from the elements. The fifty-year-old bachelor was getting to the point in his life where he accepted the fact that his house would never fit his definition of home. Home is where you live each day with the ones you love. Home is where you watch your children grow up. Home is where you can return after a long, hard day of work and still feel happy and loved. Grissom had had plenty of long, hard days of work, yet on returning to his house, he still felt horrible. He knew he was missing something in his life. He knew that without Sara, his Sara, his dreams of having a real home would never come true.

Grissom closed his eyes tightly and opened them again, secretly hoping that the emptiness was just a dream.

"_Daddy!" An energetic little girl_ _with curly brown hair and bright blue eyes ran to greet him at the front door. She was followed by a black Labrador, wagging its tail wildly. _

"_Hi sweetie!" Grissom held out his arms for the little girl to run into and quickly scooped her up and kissed her forehead. _

"_Daddy, guess what we learned about in school today?" _

"_What?"_

"_The life cycle of a butterfly! Meta…metam…"_

"_Metamorphosis." _

"_Yeah, that's it!" She smiled the brightest smile, ear to ear, and a small gap was visible between her two front teeth. It warmed his heart to see his daughter filled with so much joy._

_Grissom put his daughter down and pet his dog. She ran into the kitchen and returned with a large piece of yellow construction paper. "Did you make that?"_

"_Uh huh. See, I used sparkly paint too!"_

"_It's absolutely beautiful, Kaylee."_

"_It goes egg, then larva, then pupa, then adult, and it changes into a beautiful butterfly! Mommy says I'm the prettiest larva she's ever seen."_

"_You're Mommy's right! And one day you're going to grow up into a beautiful butterfly." He kissed her forehead again, finding it hard to conceal his pride and joy. "Speaking of Mommy, where is she?"_

"_She's in the kitchen, making dinner."_

"_Kaylee," a voice called from the kitchen, "go wash your hands for dinner."_

"_Yes Mommy." The girl turned and started to run for the bathroom, but stopped and turned around suddenly. "Hey Daddy, after dinner can we play with the tarantula again?"_

"_Sure honey, now go get ready for dinner."_

_Grissom made his way into the kitchen, savoring the smell of the home-cooked meal, passing the refrigerator that was covered in photographs of his friends and family . Everyone was smiling at him. Placing his hand around his wife's waist he whispered in her ear, "she's quite the entomologist." _

_She turned around. "She's following in her father's footsteps." They greeted each other with a quick kiss. Sara stroked his cheek and smiled brightly. "She spent a whole hour teaching the dog about arachnids. I guess she didn't realize she put Toby to sleep." _

_Grissom laughed, "That's my girl!" He was quite satisfied. Everything was perfect. "I love you, Sara."_

"_I love you, too."_

A loud clap of thunder sounded outside and Grissom could feel his whole house shake. He rubbed his hands over his eyes and then made his way into the empty kitchen. He grabbed an ice pack out of the freezer and a bottle of beer from the fridge, then made his way back into the living room and threw himself onto the couch. It was the love seat, to be exact, but could you really call it that if you sat on it by yourself all the time?

Grissom placed the ice pack on his head. He came home to try to fix things with Sara but he had no idea where to start.

_Catherine was right, _he thought to himself as he took a sip of his beer. _I would be missing out on such a great life._

Grissom looked at his reflection in the TV across the room. For an instant, he could swear Sara was seated right beside him, her head lying gently on his shoulder.

He spoke aloud to himself, "I'm seeing things. I really need to do something about this."

_But where do I start?_

He glanced down at his cell phone and remembered the time a few years ago when she asked him to dinner. He remembered how he declined; acting as if it were the most outrageous offer he had ever heard. But deep down inside, his raging emotions caused him so much confusion that the easiest solution seemed to be simply saying no.

"By the time you figure it out," her voice echoed inside his head, "you really could be too late."

The thunder sounded again.

_I'll ask her to dinner. Then I can tell her everything. _

Grissom pulled out his phone and dialed Sara's cell number. It rang several times, to no avail.

"Damn it," he exclaimed quietly, and pressed the redial button.

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* * *

Sara didn't even need to look at the caller ID to know it was Grissom calling her over and over again.

By the fifth call she had had enough. "You're too late!" She screamed with all the power that remained within her emotionally exhausted self and threw the phone at the wall. Lightning flashed outside as the phone hit the wall and broke into numerous pieces.

Sara heaved herself back onto the couch. The pounding rain outside reminded her that she could no longer hold back five years worth of pain. Through the salty tears in her eyes she could see three empty bottles of beer and a fourth one that she had opened before his last call.

"Look what you've done to me," she cried, ashamed of the sight, and buried her face in the pillow. Through the sobs, the thunder, and the pounding rain, she could hear her house phone ring; one of the most horrible, painful sounds she had heard in a long time. Grissom's name flashed on the ID.

_He ignores me for five years and now he wants to talk?_

Sara clenched her fists as she got up and walked in a trance to the phone. Her blood boiled as she saw his name flash over and over again on the display. The ringing shrieked in her ears. The pain was too much for her to handle.

Finally, she grabbed the phone and cried into the receiver. "Leave me alone!" Sara slammed the phone down. It was then that she decided Las Vegas was no place for her.

* * *

"Sara! No! Just listen to me…"

_Click._

It was too late. Sara had already hung up.

He had ignored his feelings for five years. He knew he was meant to be with her. He was not giving up this easily.

_I'll tell her how I feel once and for all. If she doesn't listen to me then at least I know I lost her trying to get her back._

_Lost._ Grissom shuddered at the word. There was no way he would let that happen this time. He picked up the phone and dialed again.

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* * *

_I'll go back to San Francisco. I'll have a boss who respects me. _Sara muttered to herself as she got a pad and pen from the kitchen. _I'll never have to deal with his stupid job and his stupid bugs. Stupid paperwork, stupid quotes, stupid experiments… _She sat down at the coffee table and took a long sip of her beer. _Stupid Lady Heather, broken promises, Sofia… _She pressed the pen into the paper. _Stupid blue eyes, stupid smile, stupid concern, stupid holding my hand…_

The sobbing returned as she wrote, her tears falling onto the paper.

Her writing was interrupted by a knock at the door. For a millisecond, she hoped it was Grissom, then thought better of it and shook the thoughts from her mind. Sara wiped her eyes and made her way to the door. She opened it slightly to see a large stranger with scars lining his jaw.

"Can I help you?"

He smiled. "I hope so. Are you Sara Sidle?"

"Yes, why do you ask?"

"Well, I was hopin' that you could help me contract a Dr. Gil Grissom."

_That name_.

He continued, "I saw him on the TV the other day, and I know he can help me with some…evidence."

"Dr. Grissom and I aren't exactly on the best terms right now…"

"Let me guess, a lover's quarrel?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Who are you and why are you here?"

"That's not important." The man stuck a gun through the opening in the door and pointed it at her face. "Where's Grissom?"

To be continued...

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A/N:Something to ponder over for a week ;-). Oh by the way, I'm considering having Grissom shave his beard at one point... How many people wouldn't mind the lack of scruff and how many people couldn't possibly survive without it? Thanks!


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or its characters.

Rating: T

A/N: Finally, a new chapter! Things have been pretty hectic over here. I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint everyone. Thanks for all the reviews! I really appreciate them all. All errors are mine…I'm beta-less. Sorry if my fight scene isn't exactly written too fluidly. I tried!

Chapter 5

A wave of emotion rushed over Sara as her mind struggled to comprehend the scene that was suddenly before her.

_A man._

_My apartment._

_With a Gun._

_He wants Grissom._

_Grissom? _

But before she could make sense of those emotions, the man clicked the safety off and repeated his last words.

"Where's Grissom?" His voice was a deep and brutish growl.

Slowly she found her voice "I don't know."

God, she wished her voice wasn't shaking. If she hadn't had so much to drink, if she hadn't had so much on her mind, Sara would have done the smart, professional thing and gotten her gun right away. It was right there on the table, four feet away, where she had thrown it upon entry to her apartment. But now, four feet seemed like four miles, and she was paralyzed with fear and confusion.

The man could see it in her eyes. He smiled slyly at the thought of the fear he instilled in the CSI. "Well why don't you let me in and we'll figure this out together."

Sara didn't budge. She was sure the scar-faced stranger could hear her heart pounding within her chest.

"Open the door, bitch!" The man roared as he kicked in the door, knocking Sara to the floor in one swift motion. Sara scrambled away from the door on all fours fighting unsuccessfully to get to her feet. Frantically, she reached for a weapon.

_A beer bottle!_

She turned to hit her assailant. The man was one step ahead of her. He sprang forward and pinned her to the ground.

As hard as she tried, Sara could not scream with her face held against the floor.

"Well," he smirked, "maybe you don't get why I'm here."

Sara grunted into the floor.

"Ya see, your people want to put me in jail. I don't do jail. I belong out on the field with my boys. So what, I killed those two." Sara squirmed under his grip. "I'm just makin' sure my boys get what they deserve."

_Coach Muller…from the baseball case._ Sara felt her muscles tighten. It made more sense now.

Muller continued, eying a framed photograph of Sara and Grissom from quite a few years back. "And that's why I need your beau Grissom here to help me get rid of all this damned evidence." He cleared his throat. "I see him on TV all the time…Quite the celebrity. They say he's one of the best."

He pushed the barrel of the gun into the side of her face. "I know," he whispered, "that you know where he is. If you don't tell me…well, I'll just have to practice my evidence-hiding techniques with _your dead body._"

"We have all the evidence we need. Grissom can't help you. It's already over."

"Watch it, bitch!" He pulled her face off the ground by her hair. "I'm gonna kill Grissom, too!"

In that instant, Sara felt her heart stop. She did love him. And even if he didn't return the favor, there was no way she would put him in danger.

"For the last time, where…is…"

The phone rang.

Sara welcomed the sound for the first time that night.

It rang again.

"I wonder who that could be," said Muller. "You stay here while I have a little chat with your old man." He got slowly, making sure she stayed on the ground, and walked over to the phone. Muller turned and reached for the receiver…

"Don't you ever call him that." Sara kicked him in the gut will all her might and sent the gun to the floor.

The answering machine picked up.

_Hi, I'm not here right now. Leave a message and I'll get back to you…_

"Why you little…"

Taking advantage of his recovering position, she kicked him in the groin and reached for the gun…

_Sara, it's me. Please pick up. I know you're there._

But before she could, Muller grabbed her by the arm. He pulled her around and punched her in the face. _Blood. Good, _She thought._ They'll know there was a struggle._

_Look, I…I know you're mad at me…and rightfully so. _

She frantically fought against the man's grip.

_But I think I finally figured it all out. I know what I want now. I'm sure of it this time._

Sara blocked a second blow to her face and used Muller's own momentum to throw him to the ground. She was finally free and darted across the room for her gun.

Muller hadn't been on the ground as long as she thought. Within a second, he was right behind her. Before she could turn to fire the weapon, he threw her down at the coffee table. Sara's head hit the edge, and she was knocked unconscious.

_Sara…I love you. _

There was silence for a while on Grissom's end.

_I'm coming over. _And he hung up.

Muller picked up the CSI and threw her over his shoulder. "Good. I'll get to see this guy in action."

As Grissom rushed up the stairs to Sara's apartment, hundreds of thoughts rushed through his brain. _Does she love me, too? Is she even home? _

Upon reaching her apartment, he knocked.

No answer.

Again, he knocked, much louder this time.

Still, no answer.

Finally, Grissom pounded on the door and called out her name. Much to his surprise, the door creaked open, revealing the broken chain.

"Sara?"

Silence.

Immediately, the investigator in him went to work. Something was not right about the scene before him. The blood on the floor and the coffee table confirmed his thoughts

Grissom dropped to his knees in disbelief.

To be continued…


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or its characters…obviously.

Rating: T

A/N: Wow, I am so glad that people actually like my story! Thank you all so, so, so much for reading and reviewing! It really means a lot to me. I tried not to end this with too much of a cliffhanger, after being threatened with a baseball bat (j/k!). I apologize if the forensics stuff isn't too accurate. If I screw up, just let me know. Again, thanks for reading!

(By the way, if anyone cares, my other piece, _The Women in his Life,_ was supposed to have a "to be continued" at the end of it. I'll post the rest soon.)

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Chapter 6

Catherine placed a hand on Grissom's shoulder as she stood over him. He had remained in the same position on the floor since he had realized that someone had attacked Sara. Catherine was the first to arrive at the scene after receiving a phone call from her shattered friend.

"_Willows." Catherine answered her phone as she was driving home from work._

"_It's Sara…there's blood and…"_

"_Gil? Is that you?"_

"…_and her gun's on the floor and…and the chain…on the door…"_

"_Gil? Hold on a minute. I can't understand what you're saying? What about Sara?"_

"…_and she's gone."_

"_You have to speak up. I can't…"_

"_She's gone!"_ _Catherine recognized the tone in his voice as one of sheer terror. After a few seconds of silence, knowing that Catherine had heard him, Grissom continued. "I came over to talk to her and when I got here…" he swallowed hard, "the door was broken, there was blood on the floor…and someone else's gun…someone must have…"_

"…Broken in,"_ she finished to herself as she flipped on the sirens and turned the SUV in the direction of Sara's apartment complex. "Don't touch anything; I'll be over as soon as I can."_

"_Thank you." Grissom's voice was barely there._

"_And Gil, don't worry. We'll find her." She hung up._

Grissom sat motionlessly, his gaze transfixed on a framed picture of Sara and him.

"Gris," Catherine started gently, "you have to get up and let us work."

After a few moments, he got up and slowly looked over the apartment. The spilt bottles of Budweiser caught his attention. He could feel tears begin to form in the corner of his eyes as he saw a beer-soaked note on the coffee table, the greeting being _Dear Grissom_ in Sara's handwriting. The rest was unreadable because of the liquid. He reached down to pick it up, but a voice from behind him stopped him from doing so.

"We'll get it." Turning around, Grissom found that the voice belonged to Nick, who stood with the entire graveyard team, along with Jim Brass and a few investigators from the dayshift. Each held a kit, ready to do what they did best, and each wore a look of deep concern on their faces. Everyone at the lab loved Sara for her distinctive personality, skill and ambition. And everybody looked up to Grissom; wise and loyal, he was always there for his CSI's. They were his family, and now, in his time of need, they stood ready to do all they could to help him.

Sara and Grissom's feelings towards each other were not a mystery to the employees of the Las Vegas Criminalistics Bureau. Their stolen glances, double entendres, and near touches were anything but overlooked by their co-workers. The whole nightshift had a pool going with bets on when the two would, according to Greg, "get is on already". Catherine was the only one still standing – her fifty bucks were on this November, two weeks from now. All other dates had already been surpassed. Knowing Grissom for the longest time out of the group, she was sure he wouldn't commit to anything but his work for quite some time. But the time had come.

The desire for Sara and Grissom to become a couple was now not just for sake of good water cooler gossip, but for the welfare of the two CSI's. There lack of a relationship was visibly hurting both of them.

"No, I'll get it. Gloves…I need gloves."

"Gris, really," Warrick walked over to him, "let us process the scene. We'll let you know what we find."

Grissom snapped at him. "Don't you tell me what to do, Warrick! I'm in charge here. Nick, find out who that gun belongs to. Greg, get those blood samples back to the lab, now!" Greg, still taken aback by the situation, did not move right away. "What the hell are you waiting for!" Grissom roared. "I said blood samples, now!"

"Grissom!" Catherine yelled back at him. "You can't be here. You're emotionally involved and you might compromise the evidence."

"Emotionally involved?" He yelled back. "Of course I'm emotionally involved! She's one of _my_ CSI's. I already came close to losing one, and I'm damn sure as hell not going to let that happen again!"

Greg took a chance and stepped forward from the group. "Look, we know how much Sara means to you, but do you realize what she is to the rest of us? Grissom, we all love Sara. This isn't just about you, now. This is about _her_. We're going to find Sara as fast as we possibly can. So for God's sake, just let us work!"

Grissom looked at each person; for what, he was unsure of, but whatever it was, he did not find it in their faces. He pushed past the group and walked out of the apartment.

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"Both guns were never fired," Warrick stated.

"And there's no cast-off; she couldn't have been stabbed," Catherine added as she snapped a photograph of the blood droplets on the floor. "My guess this is from some sort of altercation…a bloody nose, or something."

"That's my girl," Warrick said to himself. He knew Sara was strong and that she wouldn't give up so easily. "Whoa, wait a minute. The intruder's gun wasn't even loaded!"

Catherine knelt next to him. "This guy wasn't trying to kill her, or rob her for that matter. Nothing seems to be missing. He definitely wanted her in one piece."

"Hey guys," Greg started apprehensively, "her cell is broken and her caller ID says she's got seven missed calls. Maybe someone was bothering her."

"Does the ID have a name?" Catherine asked.

Greg pressed the missed calls button. "Gil Grissom," he stated quietly.

"Grissom?" Warrick inquired, "All seven times?"

Greg nodded. Catherine tried to explain. "Gris was going to move her to days. Naturally, they fought about it." She played the answering machine message.

_Sara, it's me. Please pick up. I know you're there. Look, I…I know you're mad at me…and rightfully so. But I think I finally figured it all out. I know what I want now. I'm sure of it this time. Sara…I love you. I'm coming over. _

Everyone stared at the floor, letting Grissom's message seep into their brains. Never before had they heard their boss so emotionally distraught. Without a word, they continued to collect evidence.

Finally, Nick broke the silence. "Hey, I think I found something this guy left behind." He held up a small tin container.

"Chewing tobacco," Catherine stated.

To be continued…

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A/N: Review!


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